


Midnight Mother

by cellsinterlinked, SakuraWindChime



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Bandits & Outlaws, Blood, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Poison, Violence, Western
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:20:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29006718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellsinterlinked/pseuds/cellsinterlinked, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SakuraWindChime/pseuds/SakuraWindChime
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov, centuries-old vampire lovers, arrive in early twentieth century Texas to search for their friend who has been missing for the past decade. But when a vengeful vampire hunter attempts to enact his revenge for a past scourge, it becomes a race against the ticking clock of time across the world."I promise you, I will save you."
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Midnight Mother

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [MIDNIGHT MOTHER ISSUE 1: MIDNIGHT REAPER](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23146318) by [cellsinterlinked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellsinterlinked/pseuds/cellsinterlinked), [SakuraWindChime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SakuraWindChime/pseuds/SakuraWindChime). 



> Midnight Mother was the brainchild of the amazing cellsinterlinked, Ed, who brought this vampire verse to life through his original comic script. I began working with him on his script as a soundboard and became so emotionally involved that I could hardly stop myself from adapting the story into prose. Ed was amazing enough to let me do it :)
> 
> This story will take you to different countries across an entire century, enjoy!

**Texas, 1907  
0%**

Wooden wheels and horse hooves clattered across compacted stones, a constant haze of sand and moonlit land serving as the only view from the small windows of the carriage. The coachman shouted something that sounded very close to ‘Klynn’ and Yuuri instantly perked from his rocked lull to lean closer to the side window for a glimpse of the town.

“Oh thank goodness, we’re almost there.”

Yuuri snorted, looking over his shoulder at his love. “You say that like we’ve been in here for days.”

“It feels like it!” he pouted, placing the back of his gloved hand upon his pale blond brow. “Being cooped up in a dark carriage for hours will ruin my complexion.”

“You’re silly, Viktor,” Yuuri laughed, tapping Viktor’s raised hand. “Only the sunlight can do that.”

Viktor captured his hand and twined their fingers together. “But, _Yuuri_ , I must feel the moon’s rays upon my face lest I lose my youthful visage.”

“Like that will happen anytime soon,” Yuuri mumbled in amusement, rolling his eyes to watch the wooden buildings pass by as they breached the town border.

It was only after passing a handful of buildings, and even fewer lit lanterns, that the coachman cantered the horses to a slow stop and called their arrival to the lodgings in the small town. He and Viktor hastened to don their black cloaks and top hats before the carriage door swung open.

“Welcome to Klynn, Texas!” the coachman declared with more exuberance than expected for the night hour.

Yuuri suppressed his recoil at the booming voice, hoping they had avoided rousing any of the residents from their slumber with their arrival. It was always best to have as little contact as possible on short visits such as these.

Gracefully stepping out of the carriage, Yuuri held out his hand for Viktor as he exited and beckoned the coachman with a drawstring bag of coins while Viktor retrieved their luggage. The coachman’s eyes widened at the weight deposited in his gloved palm before squirreling it away in the lapel of his duster.

“Very good, sirs,” he demurred with a tip of his hat and hopped back onto the front of the carriage to ride away.

Yuuri followed Viktor inside the saloon to the empty bar area. He sent a questioning gaze to the bartender seated across the room, who inclined his head toward the hallway to the left. With an answering tilt, Yuuri walked down the dark corridor to meet Viktor standing outside a door and relieved him of one of their suitcases so that he could knock. The first went unanswered and Viktor tried again with more force. Scrapes and clatters sounded from inside the room, followed by grumbling that grew louder as the person, who Yuuri supposed was the saloon keeper, neared the door.

“. . . knockin’ at this hour?”

A bolt slid across, a key turned, and the door cracked open to reveal a slither of a bald man in union suit underwear.

“What do you want?” he growled.

“We’d like to rent a room for the day,” Viktor stated with a charming smile.

The keeper seemingly surveyed them from top to toe with his eyes, scowl smoothing after seeing something he clearly liked.

“This is a saloon, right?” Viktor prompted, saccharine.

Flickering orange light spilled into the corridor with the widening of the door, the keeper stepping forward to lean against the frame.

“Uh, well sure,” the keeper lilted, “but to rent a room for the day is a little more expensive, about uh. . .” he paused, stroking his beard as if pondering his answer with great care. “Five dollars.”

In a past life Yuuri would have scoffed at such an inflated price, indignant at the brazen profiteering upon seeing two well-dressed foreigners. Alas, decades of the same treatment left Yuuri unfazed, and his and Viktor’s deep pockets no less dented.

Yuuri plucked a crisp bill from his leather wallet, “here.”

The keeper hardly bothered to hide his smirk, promptly taking the bill to feel it between his calloused fingers and held it against the candlelight. He hummed, tucking it between his chest and underwear before grabbing his candle holder and shunting the door closed behind him.

“This way, gentlemen.”

Viktor placed a gentle hand on Yuuri’s back before they followed the man back into the bar room. He leaned over the counter to take a key and led them up the adjacent staircase to stop before a door second from the end of the first-floor corridor.

“Here you go,” the keeper grunted, unlocking the door with a persuasive push from his shoulder.

“Thank you very much. We’ll be leaving at nightfall,” Yuuri said as he accepted the key. “Goodnight.”

Viktor chimed an additional farewell and the keeper blinked slowly between the two of them, brow furrowing, then shook his head and turned to walk down the corridor. “Night!” he echoed over his shoulder with a wave.

Yuuri sighed tiredly as the two entered the room, putting down his suitcase beside one of the twin beds and hooking his hat and cloak on the freestanding coat rack. The colours of dawn filtered in through the uncovered window, illuminating the basic decoration of the room.

“The sun is rising,” Yuuri winced, running a bare hand through his short hair to loosen the pomade while using the other to close the drapes.

An arm wrapped around his waist from behind as Viktor breathed a featherlight kiss behind his ear. “Then let’s sleep, my love.”

Yuuri smiled, relaxed, and turned in Viktor’s embrace to rest his hands upon Viktor’s chest. He closed his eyes, leaning forward for a lingering kiss from his love’s lips.

“But first,” Viktor pulled away, grinning, to poke the end of Yuuri’s nose, “we need to push the beds together.”

* * *

They woke to the twilight darkening their room and Yuuri groaned, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles while rolling onto his back to stretch his slumber-tightened muscles. Viktor shifted beside him, his body dipping the thin mattress as Yuuri felt him lean up to place a kiss upon his forehead.

“We’d best ready ourselves to leave soon, if we are to arrive before the morning.”

Yuuri rumbled his displeasure, refusing to open his eyes again. A chuckle sounded above him before a flurry of small kisses were peppered across his face; eyes, cheeks, nose, lips, until Yuuri finally gave in and opened his eyes to see Viktor’s gorgeous blue staring down at him.

“ _Vitya_ ,” Yuuri giggled, drawing out the vowels in a whine.

“Come, come, Yuuri.”

Viktor smiled as he stood from the bed and reached for Yuuri’s hands. He obliged, but only because he could never deny Viktor’s sweet smile.

“How far are we from Fort Zeppeli now?” Yuuri asked, pouring water into the basin from the pitcher on the nightstand.

“The maps suggest about half a night’s ride. Makes one wonder why Johnny chose to live so far away.”

Yuuri raised a brow, pausing his flannel wash to watch Viktor buttoning his waistcoat. “Ride?”

Viktor’s head whipped up, his loose, pale blond fringe bouncing over pleading eyes. “Don’t make me sit in a carriage all night again, we need the fresh air!”

“You mean the _frigid_ air of the desert night?” Yuuri teased.

“It’s fresh!” Viktor emphasised, pouting. “Yuuri, _please_.”

Yuuri watched his love squirm a little, his hands clutched before him as if in prayer. He smirked, “fine. I suppose we can pick up a couple of horses.”

“Yes!” Viktor rushed forward to envelope him in a hug, not caring for the dampness of his skin. “My darling is the best.”

They made their way downstairs after dressing each other. Fortunately, the keeper was easy to find, looking smug as he leaned over the bar into the face of a saloon lady fanning herself.

“. . . dollar or two to spend, if you’re interested.”

The lady certainly appeared _disinterested_ , pointedly staring in the opposite direction, and Viktor cleared his throat loudly beside the pair.

“Just here to return the key.” Viktor wore a polite smile in response to the keeper’s glare and the lady’s appreciative glance. “We had a pleasant stay.”

“Glad.” The keeper pocketed the key in the back pocket of his jeans, cocking his head to the side. “Either of ya wan’cha eat before you head out? We’ve got good grub.”

“That’s gracious of you, but we already have provisions. Thank you,” Viktor dismissed, turning toward the door.

Before he followed, Yuuri quickly asked, “where might we pick up a couple of horses to ride?”

The keeper pointed his thumb to the right, “the other end of town, won’t be hard to miss.”

Yuuri tipped his head as he wished him and the lady a good day and turned on his heel, just narrowly avoiding bumping into a greying man dressed in black heading to the bar. Muttering a quiet apology, Yuuri joined Viktor at the door and they walked toward the horse paddock.

The sun dipped below the horizon while they picked their horses. Yuuri may have teased Viktor about it earlier, but Yuuri enjoyed the simple connection of riding a horse across an expanse of quiet land just as much as his love. He stroked the muzzle of his beautiful chestnut mare, cooing at her until Viktor finished their transaction and their horses were saddled. Then they were swiftly on their way, the moon’s slow ascent in the sky marking time they did not have to waste. They turned left at the road sign just outside of Klynn and set their horses to a gallop toward Fort Zeppeli.

* * *

“Yuuri, stop!”

Immediately wrenching on his reigns, Yuuri called out to his mare and pulled her to a halt beside Viktor. “What is it, Viktor?” he asked urgently, mind alert.

His love seemed to not hear him, simply keeping his hand raised in the air whilst his narrowed eyes scanned the landscape. Yuuri’s body thrummed, head darting around to find the cause to Viktor’s behaviour, but he could hardly focus beyond the heavy breaths of the horses.

“Something’s not right,” he stated quietly, still not looking at Yuuri. “I sense trouble.”

Yuuri watched Viktor lower his hand to the reigns and forced himself to mirror Viktor’s calm. Closing his eyes, he focussed on the occasional beat of his heart and grounded himself in his sharp senses. A gentle breeze blew across his skin; grains of sand settled and moved in repetition. Yuuri opened his eyes to see three horses grazing on the desert grass in the near distance, and his nose caught the scent of mammals far more familiar than horses.

“Yeah . . . I sense it too.”

A shout sounded to the right and two men sprung out from behind a boulder, armed with Winchester rifles aimed straight at Yuuri and Viktor. Another pounced from a rock to their left, laughing, with his hand resting casually on his holstered shotgun.

 _Bandits_. “Of course,” Yuuri muttered, sighing.

“We got ourselves a catch tonight, boys!” the one to the left jeered.

Two lone men riding in the acrid desert, with no dwellings in sight, are prime, easy targets for such criminals. It was hardly a surprise to come across them after only an hour of travelling.

“Gentlemen,” Viktor called jovially, hands spread as if in welcoming. “I suggest we have ourselves a pleasant evening and go about our separate ways.”

One of the men to the right snorted. “Sounds like a plan. We have our very pleasant evening, while you and your cash go _your_ separate ways.” He pointed the barrel of his rifle to the luggage on the back of Viktor’s horse, then back to Viktor, before turning his head to the man beside him. “Joe, kindly collect our donation from these generous and wealthy tourists.”

Joe leered at Yuuri and stalked toward him, like a cat to the mouse. Yuuri peered over at Viktor, who cocked a brow as if in challenge. It would have been amusing if they were not so pressed for time.

“Alright, traveller.” Joe clicked on the full cock notch of his rifle, “get off the horse.”

Raising his hands in a placating gesture, Yuuri shifted in his saddle to secure his footing in the stirrups.

Joe lifted the rifle to aim down the sights, readying his finger on the trigger before he stopped beside the neck of the horse. “Slowly now.”

Yuuri smirked. Lurching forward, he punched the barrel of the rifle away from his face and pounced from his mare.

“ _Oh shi_ —”

Their bodies collided and crashed to the floor. Joe’s head cracked on the unforgiving ground and Yuuri tutted at the annoyance of his hat being knocked from its place.

“Urgh!” Joe cried, struggling against Yuuri’s hold on his shoulders.

Yuuri smacked his fist into Joe’s jaw with a crunch, teeth and bloodied spittle spraying to the side. _Didn’t even need much strength_. A shot ricocheted from the sand beside them as Joe fell limp. The shell clattered just ahead, the metallic reload of the rifle scraping while Yuuri hauled up the body.

“You sunnova bitch I’m gonna—"

And threw him at the new attacker.

“ _Aurgh_!”

“What the hell!” the last of the trio screeched across the way.

Flickering his gaze to the right, Yuuri saw the glint in Viktor’s eyes as he climbed down from his horse with a barely concealed grin. Groans drew his attention back and Yuuri sauntered toward the heap before him, the one still conscious under the dead weight of his friend reaching for his rifle in vain. Yuuri observed the bandit’s delicate wrist and smoothly shattered the small bones under his boot, the pained howls rising with the crescendo of the song from Viktor’s rapier. Yuuri delivered a finishing blow to the bandit’s temple; heads are even more delicate, after all. Chocked gargling soon followed and Yuuri turned just as Viktor pulled his rapier out of the final bandit’s jaw, the man crumpling to the ground. Brilliant blue eyes surveyed the hushed scene before meeting Yuuri’s.

“Well that was exciting,” Viktor called across the short distance, flicking the blood from his blade.

“Could’ve done without it though,” Yuuri joked, somewhat giddy from the adrenaline rush.

His hands shook as he carded his fingers through his styled hair and down to scratch at his nape. Remembering the loss of his hat, he searched, located it easily and within a couple of strides it was within his grasp, hands fussing with the sand caught on the silk. Viktor drew up beside him to wrap an arm around his shoulders, leaning in to nuzzle against his cheek.

“They were criminals,” Viktor murmured.

“I know,” Yuuri breathed. He turned to soothingly rub his nose with Viktor’s before leaning away to replace his hat. “What should we do with them?”

Viktor stared at him for a moment, squeezed his shoulder, then pulled a white handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket to clean his rapier. “I say we stock up whilst we can. Then we hide the bodies somewhere.”

Humming in approval Yuuri walked over to the two he dealt with, not bothering with the other one who had bled all his pints on the sand. Viktor joined him, kneeling down next to Joe and smiled.

“The vultures will take care of the rest soon enough,” he licked his lips, plunging in.

Yuuri latched on to the other, both of them feeding until the bandits were nothing more than dried husks. They rested the bodies behind the rocks they had sprung from and mounted their horses once more.

“By the way,” Viktor began with a sly grin, “you’re getting rusty, darling.”

Yuuri spluttered. “Cut me some slack,” he cried, indignant, “I haven’t had to think that quickly in a long time!”

Viktor laughed heartily as they cantered back on to their path, the moon only a fraction higher in the sky.

* * *

High walls loomed before them. Cracked and crumbling, decades of decay marred the façade of the old confederate Fort Zeppeli. Dismounting from their horses and tethering them to nearby bushes, Viktor clipped his rapier around his waist and together they pushed the ajar wooden double-doors of the entrance open. The hinges screeched through the night air from rust and disuse, and they silently walked through to the desolate courtyard.

Illuminated by only the moonlight, it was clear that bandits had raided the area before them. Cannons were strewn across the gauged flagstones, yet their projectiles were nowhere to be seen. Windows next to the empty stables were smashed and doors swung on their hinges in the breeze. Even the boards to the gallows were ruined, the debris laying beneath the haunting scaffold.

“Why here of all places?” Viktor gasped in dismay. It was the first time he had spoken since the fort had appeared upon the horizon.

Yuuri moved closer to him and softly placed a comforting hand on his back. “Maybe he felt he would be secure here.”

Finally, Viktor turned his worried eyes to him, his mouth set in a thin line. “Where would he be?”

“Anywhere. I’m sure there are a lot of rooms,” Yuuri said with far more certainty than he felt. “This is definitely the place written on the return address.”

“But those letters were from over three years ago.” Viktor turned his gaze toward the pitch-black windows, “he could’ve moved on.” Defeat weighed heavily on the edges of his words.

It was so unlike Viktor to lose his buoyant confidence that Yuuri could hardly bare it. He moved to stand in front of his love and reached to lace their fingers together. With a squeeze, Yuuri willed strength into Viktor and touched a kiss to the back of his hands.

“We won’t know until we look,” Yuuri stated with a determined smile, until a small smile graced Viktor’s lips in return.

They separated in their search, Yuuri taking the upper level while Viktor stayed on the ground. The first thing Yuuri found was a handheld lantern to light the way through the corridor of tiny windows. He searched every room, finding only upturned and damaged furniture of offices, storage rooms, and a hall with few beds and metal equipment strewn across the floor that Yuuri supposed used to serve as a medical bay. Not that much was left of it.

With each and every door that opened to desolate silence, Yuuri lost a little more hope. Maybe Johnny really had left long ago, tired of being in the middle of nowhere, tired of staying in a place that only knew death. But it was their last lead as to where he was in the world . . .

Turning down the third corridor, Yuuri came upon a windowless room that had clearly been lived in recently. Unlike the others, it was completely undamaged and decorated with a simple set up of just a bed, a table and a bookshelf.

“He must’ve been here,” Yuuri murmured to himself, elated to have found something at last. “He can’t have gone too far. We just have to keep—”

“Yuuri, I need you to come here now!”

Heart in his throat, Yuuri rushed out of the room to the nearest window in the corridor where he saw Viktor kneeling in the courtyard before the gallows.

“What’s wrong?” he shouted, worry coursing through him.

A keening whine echoed in response and without a second thought Yuuri raced through the corridor then down the stairs, almost dropping the lantern in his haste to be by Viktor’s side. As he approached Viktor curled around something cradled in his lap.

“I think,” Viktor rasped, trying to collect himself, “I think I’ve found him.”

Yuuri dropped to his knees beside Viktor’s hat on the floor, set down the lantern and his own hat, and reached to slowly pry Viktor’s fingers away from the object. A skull laid on its side, the jaw attached by only one hinge and a too familiar pattern of three bullet holes on the right cheek, temple and forehead.

“Johnny . . .”

 _No_.

Flinching away, Yuuri covered his mouth with his hand and pushed down hard to keep the tears at bay. “Wait, but this is just a skull. How do we know it’s actually him?” he choked, refusing to believe a vampire could reach such an end. “We’re under the gallows, it could be anyone!”

Viktor tore his eyes, glistening, away from the skull to peer at Yuuri for a moment before dropping them back.

“See these bullet holes?” Viktor’s voice shook as he lifted up the skull. “They’re unique to him. We were with him in Detroit when he was shot, I remember the whole thing like it was yesterday.” Yuuri nodded at the unpleasant memory of their mission that went horribly wrong. “Of course, his brain healed right away, but the skull less so with how young he was.”

The tears fell down Yuuri’s cheeks, unbidden and quiet, in acceptance of the truth. He leaned against Viktor to rest his head against his love’s, who met him halfway, both seeking support in their grief for their friend.

“This was Johnny,” Viktor mourned, solemnly placing the skull back on the floor. “And he’s gone now.”

“Good riddance too!”

Jerking away from each other, Viktor and Yuuri shot to their feet and whirled toward the unknown voice. Yuuri brandished his lantern before them to illuminate a greying man dressed in black pointing a long rifle to the floor.

“It’ll be a good riddance when all of your kind are dealt with and gone,” the man spat.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Viktor demanded as Yuuri took a step back, rattled at how neither of them had sensed the man’s approach.

“I am Baron Nikolai Plisetsky! Remember that name?” Viktor stiffened. “You’re the bastard that took away the one thing I loved. All that you have left for me in this world is the _contempt_ I have for you,” Nikolai shouted with venom.

That name meant nothing to Yuuri. He watched with wide eyes as Viktor shook his head, splaying his trembling hands before him as if in supplication.

“I know who you are. How could I not? I never wanted to take anything from you! I wanted to help!” Viktor’s voice cracked. “Believe me Nikolai, there was no other way.”

Fear crawled its way across Yuuri’s skin, petrifying his limbs. He’d never seen Viktor lose his composure before a human and it utterly terrified him.

“Lies! Lies as always! I’m sick of it!” Nikolai bellowed. “Was there also no other way for the poor individuals you _murdered_ on the way here?”

Viktor took a sharp intake of breath while Yuuri’s stuttered in his throat. A memory of almost bumping into a man at the saloon flashed in his mind. The scent of him was exactly the same. He had followed them all the way to the fort and neither of them had a single clue.

“No, you don’t understand, they assaulted us first!” Yuuri shouted, pleading. “They were nothing but low-life highway robbers.”

“We don’t want any trouble. We just came here to find our friend,” Viktor tried to reason with confidence, though the slight tremor in his words betrayed him.

Nikolai barked a laugh. “You don’t want any trouble? After giving _us_ nothing but trouble? You are all arrogant, disgusting, vile creatures.”

The cock of his rifle clicked and Yuuri watched in horror as he raised it to eye-level, aiming straight at Viktor. If that man had tracked two, centuries-old vampires for hours of travel without once alerting them, then who knew what harm he had loaded into that rifle.

“I will stop your disgusting corruption of this world if it’s the last thing I do!”

The shot exploded.

“No!”

Yuuri jumped without thinking, anything to push Viktor out of its path. His eyes met Viktor’s shock-widened ones before pain erupted in his neck and he crashed to the unforgiving flagstones. Fire licked its way under his skin, pulsing and radiating its inferno through his veins, and all Yuuri could do was gasp against it. Over the roaring in his ears he heard Viktor cry his name then there was sudden movement, but his head was too heavy to lift to look.

“What have you done?” he heard Viktor howl.

There was the sound of a blade slicing behind him and Nikolai screamed. Yuuri managed to crack open his blurry eyes to see a literal blaze engulf the gallows, the billowing smoke making it even harder for him to breathe.

“How dare you!” Viktor growled over the choked gurgling, then Nikolai fell silent.

Yuuri whimpered, trying to drag his knees to his chest in an effort to stave off the throbbing agony overwhelming his body.

“Yuuri!”

He was moved to his back and Viktor’s distressed face filled his vision, splattered with blood.

“What’s going on?” It seemed as though Viktor was shaking him, Yuuri’s head rolling side to side. But he did not feel anything aside from the fire within. “Yuuri!”

He tried to work his leaden tongue. “Numb . . .” Yuuri bumbled around thick lips. “Feel numb.”

Viktor shifted. He held something aloft that caught the light of the flames. “What the hell.”

Then he was lifted into Viktor’s arms.

“It’s okay . . .”

Yuuri’s eyelids were too heavy to keep open.

“. . . just hang on.”

He just wanted to sleep against his love’s shoulder. For all of the pain go away.

“. . . someone . . . Texas is huge.”

Wind chilled the sweat on his skin. Shivering.

“. . . other choice . . .”

He tried so hard to hang on to Vitya’s voice. It muddied.

“. . . Arkansas border . . . have to . . .”

Horses neighed. Viktor disappeared.

Yuuri tried to call out. He slumped forward. Rocked back to something cold.

Black.

* * *

**13.7%**

* * *

_Please_. _Please wake up_.

Viktor pleaded to the deities he had long forsaken to stop the heaving breaths that possessed his beloved’s body, burning with unnatural heat between his arms. Yuuri’s fever raged as they stormed through the night, reminding Viktor of days full of fear and anguish from long ago. He never thought he would witness Yuuri in such pain ever again.

The moon was low in the sky when Viktor finally entered the town where Yakov resided. He calmed the two mares to a trot to quickly scan the wooden houses for the universal caduceus symbol of a staff entwined with two serpents. Spotting it on a swinging sign of a simple house, Viktor rode around the back and wasted no time in jumping from his horse. He supported Yuuri’s head and carefully lowered him to lean against a hay bale.

“I’ll be right back, my love,” Viktor whispered, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s sweating skin before shedding himself of his travel cloak to wrap around him in his temporary absence.

Knowing the doctor slept through the night, Viktor searched for an entrance that would not require him to batter down the door and rouse the town. An open window on the first floor answered his quest and he easily scaled the shiplap wall to slip through. A figure slept soundly, lightly snoring as Viktor quietly rounded the single bed to confirm they were his friend.

Releasing a breath of relief, Viktor reached out to shake his shoulder. “Doctor!”

Yakov’s slack mouth snapped shut and he shot up in his bed. “ _What the hell_!” he shouted in rough Russian with his fist raised.

Immediately taking a step back, Viktor held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Wha— Viktor?!” he yelled, incredulous, switching to English while he sat up against the headboard and rubbed at his eyes.

“ _Sorry, doctor_. _I didn’t mean to startle you_ ,” Viktor demurred quietly in Russian.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?” Yakov shouted, face red.

Viktor ran his hand through his hair, uncaring of Yakov’s anger and unable to stand still with Yuuri weak and alone outside.

“There’s no time to explain,” Viktor rushed out in English, his words clipped, “listen, I need your help. _We_ need your help.”

Yakov’s eyes narrowed behind the spectacles he had placed on his nose. “What is the matter?”

Tears welled in Viktor’s eyes, hardly able to keep the anguish out of his voice as he bowed his head. “It’s Yuuri, doctor. Someone shot him.”

“So?” Yakov shrugged. “We’re vampires, bullets barely tickle us.”

“No,” Viktor’s hands curled into fists, “this wasn’t an ordinary bullet.” The bedding rustled, pale feet drew toward him on the wooden floor, otherwise all was silent. “I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever was in that bullet has made something happen to Yuuri,” he choked.

A firm hand gripped his arm and Viktor raised his head to meet the determined eyes of the older vampire. “Where is he?”

Looking to the window behind him, Viktor gestured, “he’s out the back.”

Yakov nodded, busying himself by pulling a white doctor’s coat over his pyjamas and lighting a candle holder. He left the room in a breeze, Viktor wordlessly following him down narrow stairs to an outside door in the kitchen. The hinges protested with a small creak and Yakov stuck his head outside, first looking left then to the right.

“No-one around,” Yakov grunted, motioning with two raised fingers. “Fetch the patient. Not a sound.”

Without hesitation, Viktor passed the doctor and hurried to the stack of hay bales where Yuuri remained in the exact same position he had been left.

Viktor crouched, lifting Yuuri into the cradle of his arms. “It’s going to be okay, darling. We’re going to help you,” he murmured into Yuuri’s raven hair, walking back inside to find Yakov in a windowless room on the ground floor.

“Put him there. Gently now.” Yakov pointed to the long wooden table in the centre as he lit the many candles dotted around the space.

Yuuri was carefully laid on the table and Viktor tucked his travel cloak around him, before taking one of his hands into his own. The warmth of them in contrast to his cold deeply disturbed him, feeling almost like human hands with their heat.

“Where is the projectile?”

Without taking his eyes away from his beloved, Viktor replied, “in my pocket.”

“Hand it over.” Viktor startled at the proximity of Yakov’s voice, not having noticed the doctor move to stand next to him and hold out his hand expectantly.

Careful not to touch the small needle on the end of the cylinder, Viktor handed over the bullet wrapped in a handkerchief. The white cotton was stained with a dark colour, green bleeding around the edge of the blotch. Yakov retreated and a chair scraped across the wooden floor across the room.

“Let’s have a look,” the doctor mumbled to himself.

Yuuri’s face contorted in pain, letting out a breathy whimper, Viktor softly shushed him while he ran the shaking fingers of his free hand through Yuuri’s hair in an attempt to soothe.

“This bullet is meticulously engineered. It injects whatever substance it contains, but only on impact.” Yakov paused. “Whoever used this knew what they were doing,” he muttered with venom.

Every muscle in Viktor’s body tensed, grief and guilt warring in his mind and threatening to overwhelm him. He squeezed Yuuri’s limp hand, desperately seeking support. There was the sound of something being unscrewed and a clink.

“I know it’s not exactly sanitary or safe, but tasting something is, I’ve found, the most efficient method.” Yakov hummed in thought, the rest of his words lowered to an indecipherable pitch.

“ _Oh_ . . .” At his surprised tone, Viktor tore his eyes away from Yuuri to stare at the doctor’s back. “Oh dear. Yes, I know exactly what this is.”

“What?” Viktor was hardly able to breathe.

“I . . .” Words seemed to fail his friend for a moment. “I never thought I’d actually be looking at this.”

It frightened Viktor how quiet Yakov was, he had never seen the usually strong, unshakable vampire behave in such a way in the hundreds of years he had known him. “What is it?”

Turning slowly, the flickering candlelight caught on the metal plate dotted with black liquid Yakov held aloft. “This here, what I extracted from the bullet, is Midnight Reaper. It’s a deadly combination of human blood, lead,” he took a breath, “and Blackheart.”

Viktor gasped. _It can’t be_. “B-Blackheart?”

“A substance so rare that I thought it was more a myth than anything else. No-one knows where it came from. Depending on the mixture, it can convert humans into vampires.” Yakov took his gaze from the dish to look at Yuuri. Only then did Viktor notice the slight sweat glistening on his friend’s brow. “Or the other way around.”

“I’ve read about Blackheart in mere passing before,” Viktor tried his best to not let his distress tremble his voice. “But what does this mean for Yuuri?”

Sighing, Yakov twisted to place the dish back on the worktable beside the bullet and crossed the room to stand over Yuuri’s prone form.

“Thankfully, whoever made this did not know too well what they were doing. They had the materials, but the mixture itself is poorly made.” A glimmer of hope rose within Viktor while Yakov placed two fingers on the inside of Yuuri’s wrist, seemingly counting his pulse. “This, combined with Yuuri’s relative youth, means the full effects will be significantly delayed.”

Viktor shook his head in utter disbelief. “He suddenly collapsed with a raging fever and you call that significantly delayed?!” he shouted.

Unfazed by the outburst, the doctor removed his hand from Yuuri and placed his arms behind his back to continue his clinical evaluation. “The sudden shock of the injection of a strong foreign substance will do that. His body will be able to recover from this shock. For the full effects, it will take a long time to kill him, about a century.”

It felt like the ground beneath Viktor’s feet had fallen away, his knees quaking, battling, to keep him standing beside his beloved. Still unconscious. Clinging onto life. His vision wobbled, blurring Yakov as he finally looked Viktor in the eye.

“But make no mistake. It will kill him.”

How could he deliver such condemnation without so much as an inflection in his voice, a crease between his brows? They were talking about Yuuri’s life! They were supposed to have _centuries_ together. Tears fell down Viktor’s cheeks as he leant over Yuuri to cradle his cheeks between his hands.

“Doctor,” Viktor whispered, trying to find his strength. “What . . . what can we do?” he sniffed, tears plopping on Yuuri’s unnaturally flushed face which Viktor tenderly wiped away. “What can _I_ do to stop this?”

Yakov cleared his throat. “The solution is not simple, but it is straightforward. As Blackheart caused the problem, it can also fix it. There is a mixture called Midnight Mother. Named so because, as opposed to taking life like the Reaper, it gives life instead, whether it’s in restoration or to welcome a mortal into the vampire realm.” Yuuri groaned and Viktor’s head swam, willing his mind to soak in the information. “By mixing enough Blackheart with enough pure vampire blood and injecting it back into his bloodstream, Yuuri’s decaying vampiric cells will restore themselves.”

“So, the very thing that has done this to him could also cure him?” Viktor croaked.

The doctor hummed an affirmation, “and his healing factor will kick back in. The poisoned blood will be overpowered immediately.”

“Okay, sure . . .” Viktor closed his eyes, attempting to reignite the hope from minutes before. It sounded so easy, “but where do we even begin to find this Blackheart?”

“I will not lie to you, Nikiforov.” Only then did it sound like Yakov felt any form of empathy. “I and many colleagues thought the substance had been long gone, a relic of a forgotten history. A good riddance too, we thought.” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “I have no idea where I would even begin to look.”

Viktor shook his head vehemently, his face crumpled and chest burning. “ _No_ ,” he wobbled.

“You might find it tomorrow, or you might find it in a hundred years,” Yakov spoke in a low grumble. “At this point, I cannot help you further with that.”

Shuffling followed, then a clinking of glass. Viktor lifted his head slowly, cracking open his eyes to watch the doctor draw crimson liquid into a large, metal syringe. In a practised motion, Yakov flicked the cylinder with the back of his nail and depressed a spurt into the air.

“I suggest you start looking as soon as possible,” Yakov continued, approaching Yuuri once again. “But what I can do for now is give Yuuri some of the vampire blood to get him back on his feet. After this, there is truly nothing else I can do.”

He motioned at the cloak around Yuuri’s form and Viktor hurried to unwrap him. The syringe was depressed into the crook of his arm, then a second in the other side. With immediate effect, Yuuri’s breathing slowed and became less laboured. Viktor finally gave to his body’s needs and fell to his knees, sagging against the table at his beloved’s improvement.

“Take him up to the guest bedroom until he wakes.” A heavy hand landed on Viktor’s shoulder. “Get some sleep yourself.”

Viktor hummed in response. Not needing to be told twice, he lifted Yuuri into his arms and climbed the stairs.

* * *

**13.6%**

* * *

Yuuri cried and cried, wailing into Viktor’s chest after he had haltingly delivered the news of what Nikolai had done when Yuuri had woken. How they _could_ fix it, but it wouldn’t be easy. Exhausted and weak, Yuuri’s hands clung to his back and Viktor wished he could provide the solace that he needed. But all he could do was weep into his beloved’s hair.

“It’s not fair!” Yuuri gasped, voice muffled in Viktor’s shirt. “I-I promised I’d never leave you alone again, and . . . and now I can’t keep it.”

He sounded so _defeated_ when they hadn’t yet had a chance to search for the cure and Viktor could not bear it. Withdrawing his arms, Viktor pulled away slightly to look at the love of his life and pleaded, “darling, listen to me.”

Yuuri remained staring at the mattress, so Viktor tenderly took his chin between his forefinger and thumb until those beautiful copper eyes met his. “Yuuri. We’re _going_ to find Blackheart. I’m not going to stop trying until we do,” he vowed.

More tears ran across Yuuri’s face and Viktor dipped his head to kiss them away, doing everything in his power to comfort him. The sun rose over the horizon, brightening the edges of the heavy curtains in the mockery of the beginning of a new day. For them it was the first cruel tick of clock for the poison that will devour Yuuri’s body. Viktor folded his beloved closer to him and rocked Yuuri while his crying slowly quietened.

Two knocks sounded on the door.

“My human patients will be arriving soon. You two need to leave before the town fully wakes,” Yakov rumbled through the wood.

Yuuri removed his head from Viktor’s shoulder to answer his questioning gaze with a squeeze of his hands and a nod.

“We’ll be right out,” Viktor called with a sigh, reluctantly releasing his hold on Yuuri to get out of the bed.

He retrieved his waistcoat and jacket draped over the single chair in the room, putting them on as Yuuri let out a low groan. Viktor’s head had never whipped round so fast, nerves impossibly frayed.

“What’s wrong?”

Yuuri leaned heavily on one hand braced on the bed, half sitting up, with the other rubbing his stomach. “I just feel a bit sick . . . and everything hurts,” he said slowly, voice thin.

Rounding the bed with Yuuri’s own discarded clothing over his shoulder, Viktor’s heart pounded painfully for his beloved while he assisted his dressing. He rubbed reassurance into his shoulders with the placement of the waistcoat, whispered comfort to his stomach with every button of his jacket, and pressed kisses to his legs in their guidance to the floor.

Viktor looked up Yuuri’s pallid face from his kneeled position, pleased with the soft smile he found there. “Do you think you can stand?”

“Y-Yeah,” Yuuri swallowed, nodding.

Bracing Yuuri’s body with one arm around his back, and Yuuri’s arm around Viktor’s waist, they attached their cloaks and slowly ambled down the slim staircase to the same back door they had entered through not hours before. They found Yakov attending to their horses: their light luggage transferred to one mare, munching on an apple from his palm while the other fed on the hay bales.

“I’ll take the other horse to the stables in town.” Yakov gave an assessing eye over Yuuri. “I doubt you can ride just now.”

Viktor felt Yuuri bow his head in the old Japanese tradition. “You have my deepest gratitude, Mr Feltsman, for helping us in dire need.”

“Thank you, Yakov.”

Yakov responded with a nod, coming forward to clap Viktor’s shoulder. “I wish you the very best of luck. Both of you.”

Knowing he was a man of few words when it came to thanks and farewell, Viktor spared a few moments to watch his oldest vampire friend retreat to his home before he hastened to lift Yuuri into the horse saddle and mounted behind him.

The sun climbed higher over the distant mountain peaks, prickling at their pale skin as they rode through the desert in search of cover. Yuuri fought valiantly against his drooping eyelids, still exhausted, which he ultimately lost by the time they found a cave to settle in for the day.

Viktor carried Yuuri into the mouth of the cave and placed him on a smooth part of the floor, careful not to jostle him into wakefulness. Pulling out some spare clothing from their luggage, Viktor rolled them into makeshift pillows and slipped one beneath Yuuri’s head. Sleep bit at Viktor’s own heels as he curled around his beloved but before it caught him, he swore to heavens:

“I won’t stop running away with you, my Yuuri. Not now. Not in one hundred years. Midnight Reaper will not catch us. I promise you I will save you.”

**13.7%**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter of Midnight Mother!
> 
> Ed's script is ahead in the story, so if you love our vampire husbands you can head over to his comic script series [Midnight Mother: A 10 Issue Series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663816)!


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